I Love You
by ilava
Summary: Two moments from the lives of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. One at Hogwarts, and one post-OotP. Slash. One-shot. Reviews are love.


Sirius' tie is askew, he has lipstick on his cheek, his hair is a mess, and he's fairly sure that look on Remus' face means he's about to get punched in the nose.

"I didn't" he sputters. "I didn't do anything she just- I mean, she-"

He shuts up. He's rather fond of his nose, and he doesn't much want Remus to break it. Apart from anything else, it's reasonable to assume that Remus might hurt his fist - after all, Sirius does have a rather _pointy_ nose. He scrunches his eyes closed against the assault that's sure to come.

"I love you," he says. He has no idea why. It is undeniably true, but he didn't mean to say it, and now he's _sure_ Remus is going to punch him. He starts to babble.

"I, really. I don't know what happened. I mean, it was all fun and games and all, you know, you and me, and the kissing, and everything. I mean the first time it was an accident but the next- I don't even know how many, but the next times weren't, but it was still- but I think at some point I just- and that girl, you know? That one. From before. I didn't do anything I was just- I was thinking oh shit Moony is going to-"

Maybe, he thinks, if he's talking, and his teeth are visible, Remus might realise that he might hurt himself trying to punch him. Then, maybe, he won't punch him, and neither of them will be hurt. Because he really doesn't want Remus getting hurt. Or breaking his nose.

"-and I didn't want you to get, you know, angry at me. I mean, it really wasn't my fault and I- I actually do. Love you, I mean. It's ridiculous. But I think that's actually your fault, so you shouldn't be angry at me. About that, I mean. The girl, well, maybe, but that really wasn't my fault either and I-"

"Padfoot," Remus says, suddenly. His voice sounds more incredulous than angry, and Sirius cracks an eye open. "What did you just say?"

Remus really does look more shocked, now, than angry. Sirius opens his other eye.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, the other thing."

"It wasn't my fault?"

Remus glares at him, and he winces.

"Well, it wasn't!"

"That's not what I meant, Sirius."

"Oh," Sirius says. He can feel himself blushing, which is insane. Sirius Black never blushes, or at least, he's not supposed to. He certainly never did before this whole ridiculous, absurd, _amazing _thing started happening between him and Remus. "I, uh. I love you?"

Remus' face has gone completely blank. Sirius blinks.

--

There are plenty of good reasons why Remus doesn't ever look in his photo albums. He has dozens of them - photo albums, not reasons - all perfectly organised, and pain-stakingly labelled. He keeps them all in a box at the bottom of his closet.

He knows he shouldn't look. Even in his numb, hollowed-out state he knows it would be a mistake. He knows that, as much as he believes he can feel nothing, he is wrong - there is always more, so much more than he thinks he's capable of feeling.

He opens the closet, and stares at the box. It looks so unassuming, so innocent, as if it doesn't hold the potential to tear him apart.

Very, very slowly, he opens the lid. There, on the very top of the pile of albums, is one stray photograph. He has no idea why it isn't in an album, why it isn't meticulously organised like every other photo in the box. He wants to go back in time and hit himself for leaving this one photo lying on top, mocking him.

The photograph is worn, curling slightly at the edges. It is from the night of James and Lily's wedding, and shows Sirius standing on their back porch, smoking a cigarette. He is still wearing his suit, though his jacket is on the floor beside him, and his tie is open. His hair is a mess, too long and shaggy, covering one eye.

The little photo Sirius turns and smiles, blowing a plume of smoke into the camera.

Remus feels as though his mind is being enveloped. It might be nostalgia, it might be grief, it might be anger - he doesn't even know anymore. All he knows is that it is a physical pain, a tightness inside his head that he can't explain even to himself.

"I love you, too," he whispers.


End file.
